Usually the cats are more discreet when they go undercover.

This was the view out my hotel window the first morning, as the sun was about to come up over the mountains:

I wandered around the hotel area the first night to get dinner, which included walking through the casino.  It’s pretty extensive:

And it has a car in it:

You can get married in the hotel in its own wedding chapel:

There are some renovations going on, marked with this large poster:

It took me a second to get the visual joke.

One neat thing they have in the hotel, in keeping with the lion theme, is a lion habitat.  It’s an area that, for a section of each day, has a couple of lions in it, playing, being fed, sleeping, etc.

Apparently the lions don’t live there full-time.  There are a whole bunch of them that live on a ranch outside town, and they transport a couple each day to the hotel in a specially designed vehicle.

The staff of the habitat were attempting to get the lions to play:

They would play a little, but mostly just wanted to lie around.  (they are cats, after all)

Next: some stuff I saw when I left the hotel.

Arzachel, who was the very old cat of the household, died 2 weeks ago on December 23.  He was about 19 years old, which is quite a bit older than most cats live.  He had survived many things which could have killed him, but avoided getting cancer (which killed both Shark and Nematode), or kidney failure (very common problem in older cats).  We discovered that he had congestive heart failure, and treatment by a cardiology vet ultimately couldn’t do enough for him.  The weekend before christmas he was no longer eating, so we took him in to end it.

The good news is quite a bit outdated.  That is, we have a new cat – one that we got 3 months ago.  We didn’t tell anyone for so long because we wanted to settle on a name first, and that took a while.  We started with a list of possibilities, and tried them out on her frequently to see what she would respond to.  The final choice was made a few weeks ago, so I now present Deodat:

A couple of weeks after Shark died, we started looking for a new cat.  We might have waited more, except that Arzachel seemed lonely being the only cat in the house.  We got here from a shelter in Springfield, and thought she might be a good companion for him.  Unfortunately, she seemed to be afraid of him from the get go, and even after she calmed down and started tolerating his presence, she was never friendly to him.

She is friendly to humans, though, and likes to sit on our laps (especially at the dining table, oddly enough).  She also is a big ball of energy, and wants to play much of the time.  This is not too surprising, as she’s much younger than our previous cats were (the shelter estimated that she was a bit over 2 years old, making her 2.5 now).  She’s a bit weird, though.  Besides the lap-sitting at table, she also likes to run past someone who’s headed up the stairs, then grab the top step as she gets there, letting her momentum flop her onto her side on the landing.  For the first couple of months she lived here, she would spend a good deal of time under the couch, and in particular would squeeze under there when she see someone coming (it took a little while to figure out that she was playing, not hiding in fear).  She still goes under there occasionally.

I have yet to put up a web page for her, but I will get around to it at some point.

The assessment given by the vet who diagnosed Shark’s cancer was correct. He said that Shark probably had a few weeks, maybe a month, to live. That pronouncement was made on August 13, and the end came on September 12.

I originally got Shark in the summer of 1994. We had stopped by a dancewear store in Ann Arbor during the sidewalk sales that accompany the annual Art Fair (which is actually four different art fairs). There were 2 cats living in the store, but the store was getting ready to move, and the owner told us that in their new location they wouldn’t be able to have cats. The two were litter mates, and his sister had already been promised to someone, but Shark didn’t have a home lined up yet (that was already his name). We agreed to take him, as there was only one cat in our house at the time, who we thought would like the company. It took a couple of days to accomplish this, because he would run away and hide in the store’s attic wall whenever anyone tried to catch him and put him in a carrier.

He was pretty much my cat from the outset. He was only a year or so old when I got him, and wasn’t much interested in sitting on my lap or being picked up. Eventually, though, he did come to like such things after he got a little older and mellower. For several years he would go flying through the air when he’d play, as can be seen on his web page. In later years he got less active, and also somewhat chubby.

Generally he was a healthy cat, with occasional problems such as when he ate a bunch of thread right out of the sewing machine, and I found him with it hanging out of his mouth, still attached to the machine. He was diagnosed with a heart condition a couple of years ago (hypertrophic cardiomyopathy), but medication kept that in check (Shark has always been easy to give pills to). This year he lost weight over several months, which initially was thought to be thyroid-related (and might have been in part), but he turned out to be in worse shape.

He declined slowly, still being affectionate, but hiding more often and losing his appetite despite pain-killing medication. This past Wednesday he hid all day, and by evening was crying when we tried to move him, and then was unable to walk correctly. I took him to the emergency vet clinic late that evening.

It was hard to say goodbye, and I keep being reminded of things I will miss about him. I also have occasionally forgotten that he’s gone in the past couple of days, thinking in the morning that I have to give him medicine, and the like.

To our surprise, when our normal vet found out he’d been euthanized, they sent flowers. I’ll end this post with a picture of that arrangement:

Shark was going along seemingly fine on the medications prescribed to him, until a few days ago.  He threw up a little after being in the litter box (and not doing anything there), and this raised red flags for us.  We figured there was some sort of intestinal blockage, so I took him to the vet on Thursday morning.  He was impacted, so they gave him an enema and kept him the rest of the day.  He got the stuff out, but was quite unhappy that night and the next couple of days (moping and hiding a lot, and not eating anything).  Part of the unhappiness is that we had to discontinue his painkiller, because the vet thought it might have caused intestinal ulcers (a possible side effect of some NSAIDs).

On Friday he was prescribed 2 new painkillers, though, and a drug to help protect his GI tract (it helps produce more mucus).  As of Saturday night he started to act more like himself, being a little more active, more cheerful, and much more responsive to us.  He’s also been hiding much less since then, and spending more time with us.

The one thing that hasn’t recovered is his appetite.  I put food into his mouth from my finger on Friday and Saturday to get some nutrition in him, and since then he has licked up a little food on his own, though he still is not really eating enough.  We’ll keep trying to get food in him, though.

We thought he might be about to go, but it seems like his decline has slowed for now.  If he doesn’t eat more, that could change, but of course it could change for any number of other reasons, too.  So we go on, taking it a day at a time.

For now he is still happy, so we persist in treatment.  He’s getting 5 different medications right now – a total of 8 doses per day – and he’s due for some of those right now.  Thanks to everyone for their sympathy and good wishes.

In the first few months of this year, Shark seemed to be losing weight rather rapidly, going from his typical 13 or 14 pounds down below 11.  I took him to the vet in May for tests, and they discovered his thyroid levels were high.  We started him on medication for that, and his weight seemed to stabilize for a while.  However, he started to shrink again in July.  Another visit to the vet showed normal thyroid and other levels in his blood work, but the vet felt a lump in his intestines.  I took him to another clinic for ultrasound scanning, and they actually detected several small lumps and nodules throughout his abdominal cavity.  Lab tests on some needle samples confirmed that he has cancer spread throughout his abdomen (the medical term for this being carcinomatosis).

There isn’t any particular cure for this.  Palliative care is what we’re trying to do, giving him an anti-inflammatory drug (non-steroidal) to kill any pain from the tumors and possibly slow their growth.  Having less pain there should help him eat, plus he’s also getting an appetite stimulant.  This is on top of his thyroid and heart medications, so he’s getting six doses of medicine a day currently.  Fortunately, Shark has always been good at taking pills.

I was told when the diagnosis was certain (about a week-and-a-half ago) that he probably had weeks, maybe a month, to live.  So far he seems to be maintaining his weight at a little over 9 pounds, but he isn’t eating what he used to.  Today he was less enthusiastic about food than the past several days, and of course, if he doesn’t eat enough, he’ll decline more rapidly.  The vet’s estimate could yet come to pass, or maybe Shark will stick it out longer.

I suppose losing one cat last year makes this a little easier to bear, but I’m still steeling myself for what is to come.  Shark has always been my cat in particular, and I’ve had him for 13 years now.  His personality is pretty much the same, but he is sometimes acting uncomfortable, and maybe scared, and I know he’ll decline emotionally as his physical health goes.  We’ll do what we can until he ceases to be happy and comfortable.

Those of you who live in the area and know Shark are invited to come and see him, while there is still a chance to do so.  Just don’t all come at once, as he gets skittish and flees when we have multiple visitors.  

At one point, after not taking a drink for a little bit, I looked down and discovered that the tip of Shark’s tail was sitting in the milk. Had there been a camera handy, there would be a picture, but alas, there was none.

I removed the offending protuberance, and tried to clean droplets off. Shark now realized that his tail was wet and proceeded to clean it – he cleaned it for a long time actually, presumably because it tasted good. Meanwhile, I removed a few hairs from the glass and drank the rest. Yes, I probably ingested some remaining cat hairs, but it isn’t as though I don’t do that all the time anyway. Those with hairy pets understand.

She was originally called Spike by her previous owner, and came to live with us in the Fall of 1997. We think she was around 4 years old or so then, but we’re not entirely sure.

Nematode liked to sit under blankets and such, and also liked to lay down on the other cats. She was always the most aggressive of the three, despite being the smallest, and would always try to take snacks or toys from the other cats. She did that up until the last week or so, even, but then ceased to do so.

That was just one way we knew that her cancer had progressed too much. By last weekend she seemed to be heading downhill rapidly. She had trouble using the litter box, was nauseated much of the time, and couldn’t walk without stumbling. This past Monday we took her in to be euthanized. This was the first time any of us have had a cat put to sleep. It was quick (very quick) and painless, and of course sad for us. Even though I had some doubts before we took her in, I’m sure it was the right decision and the right time.

We miss her, and maybe the other cats do, too, though it’s hard to tell yet. We’re glad she got to have 8 happy years with us.

‘Bye, Neme.

And it has doubled in size in the last 3 months.

The expectation is that it is a tumor, and that it will probably double in size again in another 2 to 3 months. And that will be it for her. If we wanted to be more sure about the problem, some surgery would probably be required, and there is a good chance that surgery would do her more harm than good at this point.

The goal now is to make her comfortable – continuing her kidney treatments with slightly higher frequency, giving her iron for anemia – and enjoy the time we have.

She’s sitting on my lap purring right now, and probably thinking, “I’m not dead yet!” Certainly, even though I’m preparing myself emotionally, I don’t want to treat her as though she’s already gone. Her being the first to go is unexpected, though, in that she is the youngest of our three cats.

For anyone who doesn’t know her, there are some pictures here and here.

It may have fallen, but that ain’t what killed it. I rolled it onto a piece of cardboard and saw a wound on its stomach, and realized that one of the cats dispatched it. How they managed this without waking anybody I don’t know, but I guess even coddled, cat-food eating, indoor cats still have intact hunting skills.

I’m guessing we don’t have to worry too much about any mouse problems this winter.